Web browsing led to a train of thought from U2 to The Alarm to Michael Hutchence to Kylie Minogue and ultimately to watching the video to her “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” from 10 (!) years ago:
A glamorous sheen, wit, fun choreography, confidence in presentation. Gay as hell.
She’s a knockout, of course, but something is off-putting. Her face at times looks masculine. Her lips in the second segment (white cowl – does it count as décolletage if it doesn’t really connect up until the floor?) are done up raw in a way that’s perhaps MEANT to be uncanny. Easy to imagine The Joker going “Hey, dial it down!”
[No, comic book villains do not regularly appear in my erotic imagination. Thanks for the concern.]
An example of pop culture with attractive women ostensibly paraded for straight-male admiration, but REALLY directed to tastemakers. Watching this video is like witnessing a meteor carefully composed and launched from a magical land called Art, then we in the hoi polloi cluster of breeders gape while it streaks above. We coarsely admire and think whatever base things we are meant to. The luminous missive is finally received in the distant land of Aesthetes where the denizens eagerly decode and coo over the embedded messages the mass of us in the valley could not detect.
I dutifully bought the single in 2001. No worries about helping subsidize secret semaphore between Art and Aesthetes, even though I don’t know what the hell these brilliant bursts of white light mean half the time. Purty lights!
Elbows behind back, flashing jazz hands is my favorite part.
